Light up the Darkness
by Fenella Church
Summary: Gene in 1984 after taking his team to the Railway Arms- he may seem like a miserable old sod, but he's never been happier- very short- rated M for language and a teeny bit of smut.


**Light up the darkness.**

**.**

**This is just a little one-shot that came to me while doing the weekly shop- Obsessed with ashes? Me? Nah**

**Ashes to Ashes belongs to Matthew and Ashley, not me**

**.  
**

He watched them go, distancing himself as he always did now. He didn't care so much about them, struggled to remember their names and ranks. He was no longer Daddy Bear, he was their remote DCI, glaring at them from behind his desk in his office, or driving alone in a fast low slung black car to crime scenes.

But they chattered away in the incident room in blissful oblivion; not knowing they were dead and that every action they performed was a futile charade.

'Night Guv!' they called as they dribbled off home.

Sometimes he raised a hand, but mostly not. When the incident room was silent and empty, he would walk around the desks and speak the names of his lost team. He didn't want to forget them. He wanted to see them again when the time came.

_All alone Gene- see ya wouldn't wanna be ya - _Keats had taunted him but Gene had caught up with him and beat the squirmy little bastard to a pulp. He had no sympathy for the devil.

In the shabby ill - lit toilet he brushed his teeth and checked them before going back to his office and using scotch as a mouthwash. If Keats was going to show it was usually within an hour of CID clearing out. Looked like a no-show tonight. Gene bared his teeth at the mirror and muttered under his breath.

Most people did sympathise with Jim, his face was so totally mashed after Gene had finished with him he barely resembled the old Jim at all, one eye had never fully reopened, and his nose covered most of his face.

Yet Jim Keats wasn't the sort to give up, he was there as a salient reminder of Gene's weakness, yearning for a way back in, waiting for Gene to make one wrong move, so the fight for souls could begin again.

As he left the incident room the lights went out behind him, and he walked down to the front desk, held up a hand to the desk sergeant whose name he couldn't remember, and went out into the night air.

His new snakeskin boots clattered along the streets, he could walk fast but he had a long way to go; he couldn't risk leaving a trail, so he didn't take his car.

Each night he tried to vary his journey, the fear of being followed was so great; sometimes he jumped in a cab, sometimes he had even ridden a few stops on a bus, but never the tube, he hated going downwards on escalators, hated anything that went down, where Keats would feel comfortable. Sometimes if it was summer or he was early he would walk across Hyde Park, looking at the lovers enjoying the evening sunshine, the dog walkers, the kids playing; life as it should be- but not for reached his destination; Notting Hill. In 1984 it was still unfashionable; the streets knee deep in rubbish, the houses unloved and uncared for, it wasn't yet cool to live in Notting Hill, to be honest it was a filthy dump and still something of a no go area for the faint came to the house; tall and thin and looking like it had been squashed in between the Christian Bookshop and the smelly Deli- the deli was a life saverthough, especially at weekends. The front door of the crooked house had navy blue peeling paint and was covered in graffiti. Gene slid his key into the lock,his heartbeat increasing as it always did, with he could smell something unrecognisable, and wondered what she'd cooked tonight. Bless her, she was no cook, but she tried so hard, although she was a fish out of water with domesticity. His perfect woman was a maid in the living room, a cook in the kitchen, and a whore in the bedroom- or so he had thought- but now he knew that was bullshit, he had been talking out of his arse. He did that a lot in the old days.

She was in the vast kitchen swearing, he could hear her, muttering something about 'Sodding bastard cornflour' and he cleared his throat.

She turned, and every time he saw her it was like the first time, she took his breath clean away.

He smiled, 'Don't tell me-lumpy?'

She nodded, her brow wrinkled with frustration, her cheeks lightly dusted with cornflour.

'Don't worry- we'll nip in the deli- later.' he took his tie off and she poured him some wine.

He sat on his comfy old chair in the steamy kitchen, the kitchen was the biggest room in the house and they more or less lived in it, she plonked herself on his lap, curling her arm around his neck, her lips moving straight on to his, her tongue sliding into his mouth and meeting his. They kissed like it would be their last time and it was their first time, stopping only when they had no breath left to exchange.

'Good day Mrs Hunt?' he asked.

'Pretty shit' she replied, 'But I got another job- missing wife and child- her husband thinks she's run off with a Sheik - he wants me to find her to see if the Sheik will pay him for her.'

Gene laughed, 'Should keep you out of trouble. Make this one the last though'

'Yes this one will be the last I promise. Should stop my brain from melting. Anyway…' she began kissing him again, and unbuttoning his shirt with practised ease, 'You talk too much.'

'Sex for dinner again?' he asked.

'You complaining?' she said, unzipping his trousers and reaching into his boxers.

He shook his head as they slid onto the kitchen floorboards, and she finished relieving him of his clothes, before standing up and stripping to her underwear.

'Hang on, you look uncomfortable' she told him and walked across to the kitchen sofa, pulled up a large cushion and bringing it back, placed it under his head.

He lay looking at the ceiling, totally compliant and fully erect as she began kissing his shoulders, sliding her tongue insistently around his nipples, letting her long dark hair fall over his chest before heading down to his swollen aching cock and nibbling the head of it with almost greedy joy. His hand reached up and found the spot in between her legs where the floodgates had opened.

'Get on me' he told her.

She sat astride him.

'You are a goddess' he told her as he stared into her hazel eyes, 'and you look radiant. I love you, Alex, you make death worth living.' he reached out and stroked her swollen belly gently, 'Are you sure we're not hurting her/him?'

'No it's Ok, Dr Gilly told me it was fine for a while yet.' she assured him. 'I love you too Gene.'

oxxo


End file.
